Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Dear Baby

As I recount the last 24 hours of the moments you were living inside of me I think of the joy that had my heart overflowing. The excitement of your gift of life, the secret that only a few knew of, the counting ahead of the months to come and when I would finally get to meet you, get to hold you.

The night before you were lost to me forever I spent playing in an orchestra concert. I was proud to be playing my violin, glowing from the inside out, feeling strong as a woman who could create life and create art at the same time. Chatting with fellow musicians about the day, all the while beaming from within and wanting to shout from the rooftops that I carried not only my own soul, but yours as well.
Going to sleep that night I spoke to your daddy and we talked through names that we wanted to name you. I know you were still so small, so tiny, but your presence emanated from my every thought. You were there with us… or at least I thought you were.

The next morning, we went to church and as I sang to God I thought with expectation of the coming weeks when you could begin to hear me, begin to know me. We came home and had pizza for lunch and before eating I noticed one small spot of blood… the thought that you may no longer be here crossed my mind, however I didn’t let it take over. I didn’t think that your precious life could be taken from me so suddenly. I didn’t think that God would allow for your spirit to soar ahead without me. 
As I drove the hour to get to my second orchestra concert of the weekend I tried to let peace overtake me. Tried to reason that all would be ok. I reached the auditorium, set my violin down and headed towards the bathroom. And that’s when I knew you were gone. Though I still held onto a small hope.

Rushing back into the auditorium white as a ghost I was approached by some fellow violinists. One grabbed me in her arms, held me fiercely tight like a mama bear to her cub and prayed to Jesus for you. Prayed to Jesus for me. I grabbed my violin and ran back to my car and made the trek home. My sweet baby, it was a long ride… not knowing if you were still there with me. 
The next morning was hazy. At the doctor’s office… staring at the women and their swollen bellies, the women and their newborn babies, I waited. And then I was told that you were gone. As I lay on the chair and stared at the screen that was supposed to show your life, all I saw was emptiness. And I felt empty.

I had to get blood taken three more times after that trip to the doctor’s office. Watch the numbers in my blood that shouted of your existence fade away. Diminish. It was like you were never even here… 
But. You were.

Missing you and loving your brother so much
It was that same chair that I laid on and the same screen that I stared at 3 short months later when I saw your brother wriggling around. Where I heard his sweet, strong heartbeat. Where I was able to accept that he was alive in that moment. But you were on my mind. I would never get to see you in such a way. I would never get to hear your heartbeat. I loved your brother, baby, but I missed you so so much. I didn’t want you to think we had forgotten you. That we had just decided to replace you with another. 
I can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to see your smile and bury my head in your hair. I can’t wait to tell you how much I have always loved you. You will never be forgotten. Your very being filled me with unspeakable joy.

You will never know what pain is, or suffering. You will never be scared or hurt. All you will know is the unbridled love and peace of our Savior. One day I will share this with you. Until then… you will always have a piece of my heart.